Visit to Dad
by Millie-dragon
Summary: post - The Season (Jack tells his dad about the move)


Spoilers: post – The Season (Jack tells his dad about the move)  
  
Disclaimer - all characters belong to Hank and Ed  
  
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Jack took a deep breath before knocking on the door. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation. Not that talking to his father was ever easy, but this was likely to be especially difficult. Convincing Frank Malone to move into one assisted living facility had been hard enough. Getting him to move to another one halfway across the country might be downright impossible.  
  
He waited for his dad to open the door. No need to antagonize him right away by just walking in.  
  
"Oh, it's you. Finally got your hair cut, I see." Jack had been to visit twice since his visit to the barber, but his dad did not remember that. At least seeing his son with short hair seemed to put him in a good mood.  
  
Jack waited a moment to be asked in, but the invitation didn't come. "Can I come in? I need to talk to you about something."  
  
"I thought it might be that damn doctor again. She won't leave me alone. Keeps wanting to look at my hand." Maybe he wasn't in a good mood after all. "I told her it's just a little cut, but she thinks she has to –"  
  
The younger man interrupted, "Dad, it's not a cut. You broke a bone." He saw that his father was getting more angry. "Look, can I come in?"  
  
Frank grudgingly stepped aside to let him inside the room. Jack closed the door and looked around. The small apartment appeared to be in need of a good dusting. The janitorial staff was supposed to clean all the units once a week, but he knew his father sometimes refused to let them in. At least the pile of dishes in the sink showed that he was eating more regularly.  
  
Sinking down into the worn couch, Jack decided not to put this off any longer than necessary. He had been practicing opening lines and a cheerful expression the whole drive over. "I have some great news. Maria has been offered a promotion to the Chicago office." No response. So far, so good. "They want her to start in less than six weeks."  
  
"What about you? Do you think the FBI is just going to let you move wherever you feel like going?"  
  
This was not a detail Jack was fond of discussing. While he had resigned himself to the necessity of taking one of the few openings available, the "demotion" was still a bitter pill to swallow. He enjoyed supervisory work. It gave him the flexibility to work at his desk or in the field as he chose. And he knew he was good at that sort of work. One of the best! He had a built up a great team in the last few years and seeing someone else take over that position would not be easy.  
  
Worst of all, he would no longer be doing missing persons work. That division was so fulfilling. Whenever the team closed a case, they could go home knowing that either a person was restored to his or her loved ones, or a perp was on the way to jail. Often both. True, not every case ended happily, but the good ones were really worth it. Still, Maria was right that the job had slowly been draining away some part of him. A change would probably be a good thing.  
  
"I've already talked to my boss about it. There are a couple openings for street agents in the Chicago office."  
  
"Street agent? What the hell is a street agent?"  
  
Would the man never let up? Sometimes a conversation with his father felt like an interrogation session. "It means I'll be working in the field more than I am now. Hey, it's less paperwork." Jack tried to put a positive spin on it while. He also wanted to steer his dad away from figuring out that this was a step down the ladder. The last thing he needed was another lecture about how he was throwing away his life.  
  
"The transfer forms were faxed out yesterday. We've even started looking for a private school for the girls to start at in the fall. It will take a little while for us to find a house, but Maria's company has corporate housing we can stay at in the meantime." Jack took a deep breath. Here comes the hard part. "I've also started looking into facil- , uh, apartments for you."  
  
His dad stared at him, apparently not understanding. "Me?"  
  
"Yes, you. Maria and I are leaving, Dad. If you stay here, I'll only be able to visit once a month at most. I thought you might be better off –"  
  
Frank was getting red in the face. "Don't tell me what I'm better off doing. I can still think for myself, damnit!"  
  
Jack sighed. "Okay, what do you want to do? I'm not going to force you to come with us. I'll try to visit as often as I can. But if you come to Chicago, you'll be able to see the girls before you forget who they are." Shit, he hadn't meant for that to slip out. His dad still had not accepted the diagnosis of Alzheimer's and referring to the illness was not going to help this situation.  
  
"They are my granddaughters! How could I forget them? Kate and Heather are – "  
  
"Hanna."  
  
His dad froze. "What?"  
  
"Her name is Hanna, Dad, "Jack said quietly.  
  
"I know her name, damnit." Frank sank back into the couch. His response had little force behind it.  
  
Jack leaned forward and put a hand on his father's knee. Physical contact between the two men was rare. His dad had never been one for hugs and other emotional demonstrations. But he didn't push the hand away.  
  
"Please think about this," Jack pleaded. "I want us all to be together as a family. We can find a place that you like in Chicago. Maybe one of your Army buddies will have a suggestion. I don't want to leave you alone here."  
  
The older man mulled this over for a few moments. "Yeah, I'll think about it." Some of the usual fierceness returned to his voice, "But not with you sitting there staring at me. Get out of here and pack or whatever."  
  
"Okay, yeah. I'll stop back in tomorrow after work."  
  
As Jack walked down the hall, he thought back over the conversation. It had been about as bad as he had expected. Still, the yelling had been kept to a minimum, so it could have been a lot worse. He marveled at the recent turn of events. Last year, he would have been happy to have an excuse to only see his father once a month. Now, with his dad's memory fading, a month seemed like a long time. The day he became a total stranger was going to be far too soon.  
  
FINI. 


End file.
